Cushy Number

Couldn’t find the application forms. There was a contact address on the site. Sent him an e-mail and two weeks later he hadn’t replied. Called the office and he didn’t answer. Left a voicemail. Another two weeks and no return call. I went to his office and asked: ‘Is he here?’
They looked at me sorta strange, and went: ‘Eh…what time is it?’
’11.30.’
‘Hmm…yeah. He wouldn’t usually be in until after lunch, depends on where he was last night…’
‘Was he workin last night?’
‘Well, he might have been launching something….’
‘Like a Space ship?’
‘Like a new local project or something…’
‘So you think he’ll be in later?’
‘I don’t see why not.’
‘Can I leave a note on his desk?’
She frowned. Pulled out a contact form. ‘Try this.’
Filled it out and left. Lunch came and went. No call. No contact. Rang the office again. No answer. Left another voicemail. No reply.
Went back the next day. There was a fella at the counter with a Bluetooth headset on his left ear. It looked like there was something growing out the side of his head. He kept touching it to make sure it was still there, like it was somehow responsible for his balance.. He looked up and saw me coming, then pretended he hadn’t, and got busy shuffling some papers. There was a bell that said: RING FOR ASSISTANCE so I rang it. He looked up all surprised, touched the Bluetooth and asked: ‘Are you alright?’
‘Fine thanks. Is he here?’
‘Hmmm…I don’t think so, I haven’t seen him for a couple of weeks actually, He’s usually here in the afternoons there, but….let me check.’
He looked into the distance and said: ‘No, see, the light in his office is off…he’s not in.’
‘Do you’ve any idea when he might be?’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘He works here, doesn’t he?’
‘Yeah….but, depends on the head from the night before, you know yourself.’ (wink.)
‘Can I leave a note?’
He frowned then. Whistled through his teeth. Looked at the wall, touched the Bluetooth, went: ‘Note, note….note…I suppose you can leave a contact form?’
‘Thanks.’
Filled it out again. Left my name and number and why I called.
Days and weeks passed and heard nothing. Started to think he was dead or sick or didn’t exist. I asked around and got his mobile number. Rang that and he didn’t answer. Left a voicemail and he didn’t respond. So I gave up.

A few months later, I’m in a meeting. Money on the table, enough for a big project if I get it. They said: ‘You’re making a very strong case here.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Have you applied for the local investment grants?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘I found it impossible to track down the fella in charge. Eventually I got sick of trying and gave up.’
‘But that’s ridiculous.’
‘I know.’
‘You can’t have that attitude, you need to keep trying, it’s all part of the industry.’
‘With respect, it was a waste of time.’
‘Sure we could all say that.’
‘We could, I s’pose.’
‘I’m sorry but you haven’t a leg to stand on with that attitude.’

(Includes Worldwide Delivery and Postage) Charlie’s out on bail and back on the sauce. Still devastated over the events of El Niño, he drinks to kill the pain and robs all he can to feel alive. But the past won’t give him peace. The police want him in jail. Kramer’s old crew have a price on his head, and his new employer has big plans to carve out his own niche in the criminal underworld — with Charlie at the helm. Roped into a series of audacious heists and ingenious schemes, he finds himself involved with illegal diesel in Westmeath, stolen cash machines in Mayo and violent debt collection in Galway. Couple that with his regular income of stealing wallets and robbing shops and you have a cyclone of a man roaring down a path to destruction. And bringing everybody with him. And then there’s Karena. The beautiful girl that may save him — but maybe she should know better? At times dark, others touching, and often comic, Mokusatsu is a fiction readers feast of Irish Crime Writing.